Answer to Cloe Jealous

YES, fairest proof of Beauty's power,
Dear idol of my panting heart,
Nature points this my fatal hour :
And I have liv'd ; and we must part.

While now I take my last adieu,
Heave thou no sigh, nor shed a tear ;
Lest yet my half-clos'd eye may view
On earth an object worth its care.

From Jealousy's tormenting strife
For ever be thy bosom freed :
That nothing may disturb thy life,
Content I hasten to the dead.

Yet when some better-fated youth
Shall with his amorous parley move thee ;
Reflect one moment on his truth,
Who, dying thus, persists to love thee.